


pretty paranormal

by jungwooed



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Awkward Mark Lee (NCT), First Dates, Fluff and Humor, Ghouls, Halloween, Happy Halloween!!, Haunted Houses, Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, huang renjun is pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungwooed/pseuds/jungwooed
Summary: “So are you scared of him or do you think he’s hot? I’m confused.”“Both?”Donghyuck sighed. “I’ll go through the haunted house with you, since apparently you’re too stupid to be able to differentiate between a paranormal entity and a hot person.”“Shut up!”
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee
Comments: 20
Kudos: 144





	pretty paranormal

**Author's Note:**

> the title is so dumb,,, i am so sorry,, enjoy !!!
> 
> ((small warning for minor mentions of boners. read with caution :P))

Every year, Mark _dreaded_ October. 

It was a chilly, pumpkin-filled novelty. October was often regarded as the best month of the year, laced with spooky festivities and warm spice. The mornings were foggy, and people curled up on their sofas to watch scary movies while sipping on mugs of hot apple cider. 

Admittedly, Mark had nothing against chilly mornings spent cozily indoors. Nor did he have any issues with apple cider. 

But, boy, did Mark _detest_ Halloween. 

It was the most capitalist, ingenuine, greedy, unhealthy, disappointing holiday in existence. Plus, Mark was always made fun of for wearing the same costume every year. He didn’t know what people expected; he wasn’t going to fork over the money for an overpriced costume once every year, only to wear it on one night. Even if his Spiderman costume was getting a little tight.

Unfortunately, his so-called friends loved Halloween with a passion. Every year he found himself dragged along (very much against his will) to pumpkin patches, hayrides, costume parties, and corn mazes. He grumpily trailed his friends throughout their weeks of Halloween fever, which usually died down along with their hangovers on the morning of November first. Every year he prayed his friends would grow up and leave the Halloween partying behind, but to no avail.

Mark knew when Starbucks began pushing pumpkin spice lattes and when the leaves began to turn that he was in danger. The skies became overcast and the air had a special chill that only settled during October. And, of course, on one of those chilly, overcast days, Mark was dragged from the comforting warmth of his home and to a Halloween celebration very creatively named "Frightfest."

Frightfest was exactly what anyone would expect from a relatively low-budget Halloween festival. There were a handful of food carts, a small corn maze, a pumpkin patch, a few craft vendors, and a haunted house (all of which looked a little rickety, and not in the intentional, spooky way). 

His friends were assholes, and that's why Mark was hardly surprised when, only after thirty minutes of being at Frightfest, he found himself in line, alone, for the haunted house.

It was to be expected. There was nothing there that could occupy a group of 20-year-olds’ attention for long enough to have any payoff for the $30 tickets. So, as per usual, they resorted to tormenting him. 

“Come on Mark, don’t be such a scaredy-cat!” 

“Shut up, Johnny! It’s just a bunch of actors in there, Markie. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“That’s just what they want you to think,” Johnny said in his most menacing voice. 

“Yo, I think you’re scaring him even more.”

“He’s white as a sheet!”

"I'm fine, Hyung," Mark grumbled out, even though his knees were starting to shake as he got closer to the formidable-looking haunted house. He could hear the screams of the patrons as they went through, could hear the spooky music leaking out of every crack in the walls. "It's cheesy and stupid."

Taeyong patted him on the head affectionately, but he glared and shook him off. He hadn't even wanted to come, had only been lured out of the house by the promise of free lunch. He should have known they'd trick him into doing something he didn't want to. "It's okay, Markie. We'll be waiting for you on the other side."

"It's your fault for betting against Yuta," Donghyuck said snarkily, and Mark flicked him on the forehead. They all stood safe behind the rope, while Mark was shuffled along alone in a narrow line. Mark crossed his arms in a huff. It was easy for them to tease him for being scared. _They_ weren’t the ones about to be subjected to the ‘hair-raising horror experience’ the haunted house promised to deliver. 

“Good luck, Mark! We’ll be listening for your screams!” Yuta waved cheekily and they left him alone in line, with nothing to distract from the destination ahead of him. He almost preferred their taunting to the lonesomeness. 

That's when the panic really started to set in. Mark considered lifting the rope and bolting to safety, behind the warm corndog cart. Unfortunately, he knew his friends would never let him live it down if he were to run now, so he steeled himself and took a few shaky breaths.

A loud scream of terror emitted from inside the house, and Mark startled violently, the group of girls behind him giggling behind their hands. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he cleared his throat awkwardly. He distracted himself by inspecting the haunted house. 

It looked like it came straight out of a cartoon, with gothic architecture and boarded-up windows and cobwebs galore. Mark really shouldn't be afraid of it. He was a grown man. He knew he was in no actual danger. He knew there was no such thing as ghosts. The corny music blasting through crackly speakers shouldn't be as intimidating as it was. He wiped his palms on his jeans.

"Ticket?" The woman standing by the cobweb-covered entrance asked boredly. Mark scrambled to pull the crumpled ticket from his pocket, placing it in her dainty palm. "Who are you with?"

"No one..." Mark said uneasily.

"You can't go through alone." She smacked her gum. "You can go through with the next party." 

Mark glanced behind him at the giggly teenage girls and grimaced. "Okay..."

When Mark entered the haunted house, pushing cotton cobwebs out of his eyes and wrinkling his nose at the fake jelly spiders clinging to the material, he was trailed by the four cowering girls. They hid behind him as they entered the first room, which looked like some sort of lounge. Not scary at all. Mark breathed a sigh of relief.

The living room looked fairly... normal. It was furnished with a couch, coffee table, a ratty-looking rug, and a TV, which was crackling static. The girls whispered behind him, but Mark didn't pay any attention. There was a single door across the room. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, irrationally paranoid. He kept walking, a burst of confidence propelling him across the room. He grasped the doorknob, and turned around to check if the girls were behind him.

"The painting!" One of them screeched. Suddenly, the unassuming painting by Mark's head was popping out of its frame, and arms reached for his face. He let out a strangled yelp, which he was glad was drowned out by the girls’ screams. He threw the door open and quickly ducked into the next room, the girls hot on his tail. 

Once the door shut behind them, he let out a sigh of relief. The emotional reprieve was short-lived however, as he took a look at the next room. It was a bedroom, with a floral comforter and vintage black-and-white pictures crowding the walls in ornate frames. Mark's breath caught in his throat when he heard the creaking sound coming from across the room. There was a woman sitting in a rocking chair by the window, rocking steadily back and forth. She was turned away from them, and Mark could almost believe it was some kind of animatronic if she wasn't humming in a low, sulking voice. He shivered.

"Go on." One of the girls nudged his shoulder. The humming grew louder as Mark approached, and right as he was about to rush past the rocking chair, the woman jumped up and screamed bloody murder in his ear. He stumbled backwards, almost falling on his ass in the process. The girls screamed and laughed hysterically behind him.

"You can't escape," the woman cackled out manically. She wore grotesque makeup that made her look white as paper, with thick wrinkles drawn on to make her look elderly and sick. It shouldn’t be scary, the haunted house was a mish-mash of cheap tricks, scary music, and Party City decorations, but he still felt his heart plummet down into his stomach. He fled out the door, shutting it behind him as he heard the screams of the teenage girls fade into the background. 

He was alone. 

He kept his back pressed to the door as he examined the room ahead of him. It was a long, black hallway, and the walls rippled at the slightest bit of breeze or movement. He knew they were curtains, and a cast of terrifying monsters lurked behind them, waiting to jump out and scare him like depraved humanoid jack-in-the-boxes. 

He gathered what little courage he had left, thinking of his friends waiting outside for him and the beautiful sunlight that laid ahead. He could probably guilt trip Taeyong into buying him a corndog after he’d finally escaped this hellhole. With thoughts of warm, greasy food and sunlight, Mark took his first step forward. 

A pale hand reached out and grabbed his ankle. He yelped, scrambling away as more hands appeared by his feet, reaching for him. He almost sobbed, but he was so high on his adrenaline rush he just _ran._ He flew straight through the next door, and he was so grateful to be able to reach the other side of the hall, he hadn’t noticed the fresh new horrorscape he’d entered into. The next room was a bit brighter, but it was only thanks to the many candles throwing an eerie, strange lighting on the walls. Shadows slunk about on the walls like they had lives of their own. Mark swore he felt someone breathing on the back of his neck, but when he whipped around, there was no one there. 

The room looked like a kind of basement, and melting candles were placed all around the room, flickering in an invisible breeze. Bloody handprints dotted the walls in deliberate intervals and the words ‘she’s coming’ were written in red, dripping paint. Suddenly, he heard a noise come from the far corner of the room, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw a figure crouching in the shadows. It rose, and moved towards Mark slowly; it looked like it had a limp. 

The figure came into the candlelight, and Mark’s breath was knocked out of his lungs. It was a boy. Clearly a boy. He had on thick layers of makeup that made him look pale and sickly, with dark undereye circles and an air of death and disease about him. And yet, Mark couldn’t help but think he looked so undeniably… pretty. 

He glowed in the candlelight, so much that Mark could almost believe he was face-to-face with a real ghost.

His clothes were tattered and blood-smeared. The hilt of a knife stuck out of his abdomen like he’d been stabbed in the stomach. Mark knew he was supposed to scream, to run, to feel fear suffocating his lungs. The boy smiled. Perhaps it was supposed to be menacing, but Mark’s heart skyrocketed for a completely different reason. 

“Aren’t you a cute little lamb,” he said condescendingly, so softly Mark had to strain his ears to hear him over the spooky music. “Run along now, or you’ll be next.” Mark stared into his eyes, entranced, before being brought back to his senses by the three teenage girls bursting through the door behind him. They pushed him into the next room in a panic, and Mark caught only a slight glimpse of the boy as he was shoved through the doorway. Just the slightest peek of that smile and those shining eyes. 

As Mark made his way through the rest of the haunted house, the scares didn’t bother him so much. His mind was too preoccupied with the boy in the candle room. His voice had been soft, and he’d felt almost sorry to see a knife wrenched in the stomach of such a gentle-looking boy. 

He left the haunted house in a daze, and when his friends saw his haggard state they probably thought he’d been scared silly. He didn’t contradict this notion, because he got a corndog _and_ a hot apple cider out of his friends’ pity. But really, he was still thinking about Ghost Boy. How mesmerizing he’d been. 

“Hey, are you alright? Did something happen in there?” Donghyuck asked him later, after the hyungs had gone. They sat at a picnic bench with the remainders of their food scattered in front of them. It was all overpriced (because what else could be expected from a Halloween festival) and Mark felt a deep sense of regret after seeing the pile of wrappers on the table. His wallet wept in his pocket. 

“It was sort of scary…” Mark remembered how terrified he’d been towards the beginning. “There was one ghost in particular. He had a knife stuck in his stomach.” 

“Is that why you’ve been so quiet? He really scared you that bad?”

“Not really. He didn’t scare me.”

“I doubt that.” Donghyuck snorted. “Everything scares you.” 

“Shut up, man.” Mark wrinkled his nose and fiddled with the napkin in his hands. “He was… pretty.” 

“He was _what_ now?”

“He was really pretty, man. I don’t know.” 

“The boy with a knife in his stomach in the haunted house… was pretty?” 

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna get his number?” 

Mark felt his face heat up at the very thought. Talking to the pretty ghost boy? As a real human and not an apparition? He gulped. “No… I don’t.”

“Yes you do.” Donghyuck grabbed his arm and pulled him up from the picnic table. Mark looked back mournfully as he watched their trash get swept up in the breeze and scattered across the grass. 

“Hyuck, we have to clean up--” 

“Shut it. We don’t want to miss him, right? Hurry up.” Mark let himself be led through the festival, past the pumpkin carving station and the food carts and the corn maze and game booths. The sun had set long ago, but the festival was still alive with the glow of orange lights and the sound of Monster Mash playing somewhere in the distance. The haunted house was still alive with the sounds of screaming and fake cobwebs blowing in the breeze. Mark shivered. It was even more intimidating in the dark than it had been in the daytime. 

“I have to go through again?” He asked in a small voice. 

“No, but we’re gonna wait for closing and catch him before he leaves. You remember what he looks like, right?” 

“Of course,” Mark found himself saying. 

“Closing time is only an hour away, and the haunted house closes ten minutes before then.” Donghyuck plopped onto the concrete sidewalk and tugged at the hem of Mark’s jacket. “He has to leave at some point, right?” 

Mark sighed and sat next to him on the pavement. They waited. The food trucks started to pack up and slowly people began to trickle out, until the festival was quiet and dark. Mark had watched as the haunted house workers had filed out of the building. He vaguely recognized one very kind-looking woman as the wicked creature he’d seen in the second room. One by one, the haunts exited the house, the slight remnants of makeup still smeared on their faces. 

However, the ghost boy with a knife in his stomach was nowhere to be found. 

“Well, maybe you really did see a ghost,” Donghyuck said jokingly. They left after that, with heavy disappointment in their bones. The corndog Mark had had churned in his stomach uncomfortably.

As he laid awake in bed that night, he thought of Ghost Boy. He’d been so pale he was almost transparent, with mesmerizing eyes and an alluring voice. As he stared at the ceiling he could almost see his face looking back at him, soft and slightly cruel. 

Mark felt his heart racing in his chest. He wondered if the boy had been a figment of his imagination, but his words echoed in his head as vivid and real as they had felt in the haunted house. 

_Run along now, or you’ll be next._

Mark shivered, and dreamt that night of a pair of eyes, warm as the flame of a hundred candles. 

\---

Mark thought about little else for the next few days. 

Wherever he went, it seemed he would never escape from his clutches. Everything reminded him of the boy, from the candles shining behind the eyes of jack-o’-lanterns, to the cute ghost decals pasted to every store window.

He felt like a moth drawn to a flame. He felt enslaved by intrigue and beauty. He felt _curious._

Curiosity was what brought him back to the Frightfest three days later. Alone this time. He purchased one very expensive ticket, with only one objective: find out if Ghost Boy was real. 

Also maybe get another corndog since he was already there. 

He stood in line, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The anxiety had slightly lessened, since he already knew what to expect, but he still shivered at the thought of the grotesque old woman and the spooky music and the pale hands that grabbed at his ankles. For a moment, he considered turning away, but he knew he would lay awake thinking about Ghost Boy for the rest of his life if he didn’t find out if he was real. 

He was grouped with two couples, no doubt on a double date and very displeased by his presence. When they went through the cobweb-covered entrance, they rushed through the first room, squealing in delight as the painting came to life by their heads, and disappearing into the next room. 

Mark stayed by the door for a moment, waiting for them to get a good head start. Once he was sure they were gone, he took a deep breath, and ventured alone into the dark house. The scares were almost as impactful as they had been the first time. Mark was the designated “scaredy-cat” of his friend group, and even if he expected them, the jumpscares still strained his heart beyond what he thought possible. He screamed bloody murder as the woman hissed in his face and the hands reached for his legs. 

By the time he reached the candle room, he felt like he might be on the verge of crying. He took a moment to catch his breath, but it caught uncomfortably in his chest when he suddenly realized he was _there._ The place he’d been dreaming of for days. He looked to the corner, where the shadowy figure of Ghost Boy was supposed to be crouched like a lion hiding in the tallgrass, waiting to ambush its prey. 

But there was no one there. Mark’s blood seemed to freeze in his veins. He stared at the corner, half expecting the boy to appear out of thin air. He felt dizzy. If Ghost Boy wasn’t real, what had he seen several days previously, so cold but with such enchanting eyes?

“So the little lamb has wandered back into the slaughterhouse,” a silky voice said, right by his ear. 

Mark whipped around and found himself face-to-face with the grinning face of Ghost Boy. He stumbled backwards, so shocked he couldn’t speak. He tripped over an uneven floorboard, landing with an _oof_ on the floor. The boy looked down at him, his eyes sparkling like they had in his dreams, his voice still as sweet as he remembered it. 

“If you don’t hurry… she’ll catch you. You’ll be next.” 

Mark remained on the floor, gaping up at him like a fish. He could see the boy become a bit confused. He cocked his head slightly and Mark saw his eyes glimmer with concern. 

“Little lamb, are you okay?” 

“Are you a ghost?” 

The boy smiled and leaned down so he was staring directly into his eyes. “I am your worst nightmare. The monster under the bed. I lurk in the corner of your eye. I know you, I watch you. Now, go little lamb. Or I might be tempted to eat you up myself.” 

\---

Mark was barely able to function. When he’d gotten home that night after seeing Ghost Boy again, he’d sat down on the couch in the living room of his apartment and stared blankly at the wall for several hours. His questions remained unanswered. The boy was just as much an enigma as when he’d first laid eyes on him. 

Donghyuck had come home from work to find him still sunken into the couch cushions with a vacant expression on his face. After being grilled for a solid twenty minutes, Mark revealed his excursion to the Frightfest earlier that afternoon. Donghyuck listened, nodding along when necessary. Mark told him about the boy appearing out of thin air, the paleness of his skin, his haunting voice, the dreams. 

“So, what are you really trying to say?” Donghyuck asked once Mark was done. 

“I think he might be a ghost,” Mark said finally, after a generous pause. Even then, his voice was laced with uncertainty. 

“We’ll go back tomorrow,” Hyuck said definitively. 

“What? Were you even listening to me?” 

“Yeah, you got scared shitless in the haunted house and tricked yourself into thinking there are actual ghosts in there.” Donghyuck gave him an unimpressed look and got up from the couch.

“We’ll go as soon as it opens tomorrow.” 

“Donghyuck, you don’t understand. He said he’ll _eat_ me.”

“So are you scared of him or do you think he’s hot? I’m confused.”

“Both?” 

Donghyuck sighed. “I’ll go through the haunted house with you, since apparently you’re too stupid to be able to differentiate between a paranormal entity and a hot person.” 

“Shut up!” 

“I’m just telling the truth!” 

\---

The next day, Mark stood in front of the haunted house. Again. But this time, he wasn’t alone. Donghyuck stood by his side in line, not looking the least bit scared as he smacked his gum and observed their surroundings nonchalantly. 

“You’re really scared of this stuff?” Donghyuck vaguely gestured to the haunted house. Mark just glared and ignored him, knowing he just wanted to push his buttons. Once they got to the front of the line, Mark was properly scared. This time, though, it had less to do with the haunted house itself and more to do with his fears surrounding Ghost Boy. What if he wasn’t there today? What if Donghyuck couldn’t see him and he really was just a figment of his imagination? Or what if he _was_ there and Donghyuck decided to embarrass him? That was a more likely scenario. 

Once they were inside, Donghyuck paid no mind to the spooks and scares he encountered. He breezed past the man in the painting, the woman in the rocking chair, and sighed at the pale hands that grasped at his feet as he walked down the hallway, kicking them away like they were mere pests. 

Even if it was Mark’s third time going through the haunted house, he still jumped at every spook, every sudden swell of the music, every shadow lurking in the corner of his eye. He squealed in distaste at the hands grabbing at his ankles. That was, until he reached the door. The door to the candle room. The door that would lead to Him. Ghost boy. 

Mark shivered. 

“What’s taking you so long?” Donghyuck whined, jerking away from a hand that was reaching to wrap around his ankle. “Open the fucking door.”

Mark gulped, let his hand linger on the doorknob for a little while longer, then threw it open. A few candles were extinguished by the breeze that wafted in. Only a few remained lit, making the room even darker and even eerier than it had been the previous times he’d gone through. Mark instinctively looked to the corner where Ghost Boy should be crouched. It was so dark and the air was so still, Mark was sure for a moment that there was nothing there at all. That was, until he heard Donghyuck let out the first shriek of the night. 

“Hello, little lamb. You’re back again?” He smiled menacingly, too wide and too crooked. But still, Mark couldn’t help but notice how his two front teeth stuck out a little. His teeth were white, too. They were not the rotten, decayed teeth of a dead boy. He looked like someone who took a lot of care in his oral hygiene. Mark wondered what kind of toothpaste he used. 

“Listen, let’s cut to the chase.” Donghyuck started speaking before Mark could stop him. “This is Mark, and he has this, like, totally pathetic crush on you. Are you gay?” 

“Donghyuck,” Mark hissed, too mortified to speak above a whisper. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. We’ll be going now.” 

Suddenly, bony fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt, and Mark was pulled close to the ghost boy. He realized with a strange rush of excitement that he was close enough to feel the hilt of the knife pressing into his own stomach. Ghost Boy stood right in front of him, as pale and deathly as he’d always been. Mark gulped, looking into those dark eyes, still reflecting the flickering candlelight like dark, glassy mirrors. 

From this close up, however, Mark could clearly see the paint caked on his face, the fakeness of the blood running from the corner of his lips to his chin. The dark circles were beginning to fade, and Mark could see the slight pink flush of life beneath the makeup. Ghost Boy wasn’t a ghost, and the wave of relief that washed over Mark was so profound he felt like he might cry. 

“Is that true, little lamb?” 

“Mark,” Donghyuck corrected quickly, and Ghost Boy sent him a withering stare. He wasn’t a ghost, but maybe Mark should still be scared of this boy. Those thoughts flew out the window, however, when he turned back to him. This time, with a dazzling smile painted onto his lips. 

“Mark. Do you have a _crush_ on me?” 

Mark felt a shiver run down his spine, goosebumps erupting all over his arms. He could feel the slight scrape of Ghost Boy’s fingernails against his throat. It was subtly threatening, but Mark couldn’t help the rush of heat that went to his ears. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and his throat felt like it had closed up. Ghost Boy just stared at him with those same black eyes, and he almost looked mean. 

“Are you really going to eat me?” He asked weakly. 

Mark could hear Donghyuck’s facepalm from across the room. 

But then, what Ghost Boy did next made Mark so lightheaded he might’ve collapsed on the floor. 

He giggled. An honest-to-god giggle that had Mark’s heart pounding and knees weak. 

“I might.” 

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of roleplay this is, but can’t we just be normal people and set up a date and time?” 

The Ghost Boy laughed again and leaned in close to Mark’s ear. “Say, little lamb. I get off work at 8:00. Think you can wait for me until then?” 

Mark nodded. “Yeah, sure thing,” he choked out. 

“I’ll see you then.” Ghost Boy shoved him towards the door. He was much stronger than he looked. Nowhere near feeble nor frail. 

Ghost Boy was retreating back into his dark corner of the room, and Mark was halfway out the door when a thought suddenly occurred to him. “I don’t know your name.”

Ghost Boy looked at him surprisedly, before smiling that dazzling smile and responding, “It’s Renjun.” 

\---

Donghyuck sat with Mark as he waited for the eighth hour. It was already dark and chilly, with clouds slinking across the surface of a full moon. Mark’s nerves were acting up, and Donghyuck had bought him a corndog to try and get him to calm down. It remained uneaten in his hand.

“Dude, you need to chill out.”

“I can’t.” Mark wiped his unoccupied hand on his jeans. It was so cold, he had no excuse to be sweating. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Then there’s nothing you can do.” Donghyuck shrugged. “You’re acting like you’re going to propose. It’s just a date, so chill out.” 

“It’s a _date_?” Mark hissed, suddenly feeling faint. 

“Stop freaking out. It’s just a cute boy.” 

“Exactly.” His knee was shaking so violently that his corndog slipped off the stick and _splat_ onto the ground. 

“That cost seven dollars,” Donghyuck whined mournfully. “You owe me.” 

Just as Mark was about to respond with a half-true placating promise, a familiar voice interrupted their banter. 

“Hello little lamb.” Mark froze. When he slowly turned around, Ghost Boy stood there sheepishly with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. Well, not Ghost Boy. It was Renjun. 

The makeup was almost gone from his face. There were a few splotches of face paint that clung to his skin, but his pretty complexion shone through. He had a light blush high on his cheeks from the nighttime chill, and he pulled his coat close around his body. There was no more knife sticking out of his stomach. His eyes shone not with the grim gleam of dying candlelight, but with the light of the full moon. 

“That’s my cue to leave!” Donghyuck got up from the bench and dusted off his pants. “Have fun, kiddos.” He winked at them, then sauntered off towards the exit. Mark almost wanted to drag him back by the scruff of his neck, but he was distracted by Renjun sitting in his place on the bench. 

“Hi,” he said cheerfully. “Sorry I’m a little late. It’s not easy to scrub off all this makeup.” He grimaced and rubbed at a spot of resilient white paint on his cheek. 

“It’s alright,” Mark managed to say. This remark was followed by a long stretch of awkward silence. Renjun fingered a loose thread on the sleeve of his jacket, looking down awkwardly at the pavement. 

“Was your friend just joking? I won’t be offended if you’re not actually…” He made a vague gesture in the air. 

“No. No, I am,” Mark said quickly. “I’m interested. In you.”

Renjun smiled sheepishly, still staring down at his sleeve. “You’re kinda cute, too.”

“Am I?” 

“Yeah. It’s cute how much you like haunted houses. How many times did you go through? Three?” 

“Yeah.” Mark’s face burned hot. “I guess I just… really like Halloween.” 

“Me too!” Renjun’s eyes lit up. “It’s my favorite holiday.”

“Why?” Mark asked weakly. “I mean, me too, obviously, but- Why do _you_ like it?” 

“Well, I’m guaranteed to have work.” Renjun chuckled nervously. “Haunted houses are a haven for the average out-of-work actor like me.”

“Oh, you’re an actor?” 

“Yeah.” Renjun shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Is that… okay?” 

“No, of course it is,” Mark said hurriedly. “Really cool… yeah.”

“Well, thanks.” Renjun smiled slightly, not his usual perfect, full-toothed smile. Just a slight upturn of his lips. 

“You’re a good actor, really,” Mark said suddenly. “I almost thought you were a real ghost for a second.” He forced a laugh, thinking of the many sleepless nights he spent thinking about the ghost he’d seen in the haunted house. It seems so silly now, seeing Renjun in front of him and without all that makeup on. 

Renjun brightened at that. “Really? I get really in character when I’m in there… sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s okay,” Mark said weakly. “It’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” 

“Yeah, it kind of is.” Renjun smiled again, and Mark felt like his heart was beating in his throat. “So… Do you wanna exchange numbers maybe? I think you’re really cute and I’d love to get to know you better.” 

Mark stood there for a moment, trying to process the words that had come out of Renjun’s mouth. He must’ve been staring for a while, because Renjun’s smile slipped off his face and a self-conscious blush crept onto his cheeks. 

“Sorry, I should’ve known better. It was nice talking to you.” He turned away, dejectedly shoving his hands back into the pockets of his coat, but Mark caught his wrist. 

“No, sorry... yes.”

“Yes?” Renjun looked surprisedly down at the grip Mark had around his wrist, and he quickly released him with an embarrassed smile. 

“I’d like to get to know you better, too.” 

“Okay. Give me your number then, little lamb.”

\---

If Mark hated Halloween, he absolutely loathed first dates. He was always so worried about making a good first impression that he would end up going in circles trying to pick a location, a day, a time, what to wear... and by the time it was actually time to meet his date, he was already more a bundle of frayed nerves than a human being.

Renjun had asked him if he’d had any Halloween plans, to which he’d promptly said no. Because he didn’t, and he never did. Mark enjoyed Halloween in the quiet solitude of his apartment, with no trick-or-treaters to be seen. He usually spent the night enjoying discount candy on his couch and watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Out of spite, he refused to watch the many Halloween-themed movies that ran through the night.

Mark never thought he’d be caught buying Halloween decorations from Party City, but he’d go immeasurable lengths for anyone with a smile as pretty as Renjun’s. He wrinkled his nose distastefully at the grotesque silicone masks that lined the aisles. He already had a few things in his cart: a plastic jack-o’-lantern (because he wasn’t going to carve his own, yuck), a garland with cute little bats on it, fake spiderwebs, and some orange string lights. 

He did see one prop of an ugly black rat with red eyes, appropriately labeled as “Evil Rat.” It reminded him of Donghyuck, so he threw it in his cart to give to him later. 

He passed on the fake severed limbs hanging from meathooks and the expensive animatronic ghosts. Mark felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight of them. He didn’t want such things in his apartment. 

Renjun wanted to have a scary movie marathon with him, which he really should be thrilled about. If he were braver, he could imagine himself being a stoic pillar of strength for Renjun to hide behind if he became scared. He imagined a fantastical scenario in which he would simply laugh off the jumpscares and comfort the cute boy burying his face into his arm. 

But Mark was not a stoic pillar of strength, and it was much more likely that he would throw Renjun in front of himself like a shield every time something scary popped up on the TV. He cringed at the thought, prayed to all the Halloween gods to give him nerves of steel, if only to impress Renjun. 

Unfortunately, the Halloween gods were unlikely to be in his favor.

His bill from Party City ended up being exponentially larger than what was reasonable, but he paid it with no complaint and left the store with his back in a hunch. 

\---

Ten minutes before Renjun was supposed to arrive, Mark was hastily throwing up the Halloween decorations from Party City. The spider webs and the orange string lights had gotten all tangled up, and Mark was in a panic trying to separate them. The bat garland was up and hanging over the TV, a little lopsided but at least it was _something._

He’d bought a pizza for them, too. One in the shape of a jack-o’-lantern with pepperoni eyes and a bell pepper mouth. It was the most festive Mark had been for Halloween since he was a kid. 

Just as he disentangled himself from the Halloween decorations, he realized he had made one fatal mistake. 

Mark had no costume. The most important part of Halloween, and he had forgotten. 

He couldn’t wear his Spiderman costume, since it was way too tight in the crotch and Mark didn’t want to accidentally make Renjun uncomfortable. Also, if he happened to get a boner there would _really_ be no hiding it, and Mark didn’t want to tackle that awkwardness on the first date. 

An idea came to him as he rummaged through his closet. He frantically changed out of his comfy, yet stylish, date-wear and into a wrinkly, white button-down shirt and black jeans. He threw on a red tie (slightly skewed but perhaps it worked with the character) and put on his old circle glasses from high school. He grabbed a pink highlighter from his desk and hurriedly drew a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, mussing up his nicely coiffed hair in the process. 

He had barely enough time to wrap the orange string lights around his coffee table before there was a soft knock at the door. Mark stood back for a moment to admire his handiwork. Sure, it was a little messy, but at least it was festive. The spider webs _almost_ looked like they were supposed to hang like that. 

He took a deep breath, and opened the door. 

“Hi, Mark!” Renjun stood grinning in his makeup from the haunted house, but he was dressed in comfy-looking casual clothes. Mark deeply regretted his attempt at a costume. “Wow, you’re all dressed up! Are you supposed to be Harry Potter?”

“Yeah. I’m supposed to be, at least…”

“Sorry, that sounded rude.” Renjun bit his lip. “It’s a very good costume.”

“No, it’s okay. I know it’s shit.”

Renjun giggled and peeked behind him. “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, course.” Mark stepped out of the way and gestured for Renjun to go inside. He examined his face for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction. He’d deep-cleaned his apartment that day, but that meant it smelled vaguely of vacuum fumes. The vanilla-pumpkin candle he’d lit did little to cover up the smell. but at least it was dust-free. 

“Wow, you really went all out! You look like you’re hosting a Halloween party in here.” 

“Well, this is kind of a party, isn’t it? Halloween party for two?” 

Renjun settled down on his couch, albeit a little awkwardly, and offered a slight smile. “That sounds lovely, Mark.” The white paint on his face was cracked a bit around the corners of his lips. The makeup did little to unsettle him now that Renjun wasn’t in character, but when he smiled he was reminded of their meeting in the haunted house. How haunted he’d been by this sweet soul sitting so primly on his sofa. 

“I ordered pizza,” Mark managed to say through a dry throat. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Renjun said dramatically. “It’s Halloween, so I’ve been working since eight this morning.”

“You must be exhausted.” 

“I am! Which is why I’m _very_ much looking forward to snuggling in for a scary movie marathon,” Renjun said cheekily. 

Mark gulped. “Same.” He walked over and tentatively sat next to Renjun. Not so close that their knees were touching, but close enough for Renjun to lean over and rest his head on Mark’s shoulder. Theoretically. If he wanted to. 

“What do you have for us first?” Renjun asked, reaching into the pizza box to get a slice of pizza. It had gotten slightly cold and Mark agonized at the lack of any cheese pull, but Renjun seemed to gobble it up without care. He hadn’t even noticed it was in the shape of a jack-o’-lantern. 

“I was thinking either _Beetlejuice_ or _Ghost Busters_ first?” Mark suggested hesitantly. Renjun blinked a few times, a mouthful of pizza in the pocket of his cheek making it puff out like a squirrel. 

“I thought we were going to watch scary movies?” He sounded slightly disappointed, and Mark began to panic. 

“I thought maybe we could watch one of them as a warm up! And then we can build up to the scariest movies.” 

Renjun seemed to like that idea, judging by the way his eyes lit up with joy. “Okay! How about Beetlejuice, then. I _love_ Winona Ryder.”

“Haha… Yeah.” Mark said awkwardly, queuing up _Beetlejuice_ on the TV. He cringed at himself, but Renjun didn’t seem to be bothered, tucking his feet underneath himself on the couch and grabbing another slice of pizza. It might’ve been the slightest bit rude, but Mark found him completely endearing nonetheless. 

They watched _Beetlejuice_ in relative silence. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, but Mark found himself agonizing the whole time. If he didn’t make a move, would Renjun think he wasn’t really into him? Or what if he _did_ make a move and Renjun thought he was an opportunist creep? 

He decided to test the waters slowly. 

He reached across Renjun to take a piece of pizza from the box, now cold but still passable. When he leaned back against the cushions, he was marginally closer to Renjun than he was before. He tried to gauge Renjun’s reaction, tried to see any slight changes in expression that could clue him into what he was thinking. 

Nothing. 

Next, Mark placed his hand next to him on the couch, only centimeters from Renjun’s. Mark, again, waited and watched for any kind of sign from him, but to no avail. 

This kind of awkward pining continued for the rest of their screening of _Beetlejuice_ , and Mark felt like he was about ready to lose hope. 

“Okay, since you picked the first movie, I get to pick the next one,” Renjun said eagerly as the end credits rolled. He looked so excited at the prospect, Mark couldn’t even be upset that he had chosen _Scream_ for their next movie. 

He found himself more bothered as time went on, however, and he struggled to mask his fear as the movie started to build up. He suppressed a shiver at a shot of a bloody Drew Barrymore hanging from a tree. Renjun seemed fully absorbed in the movie, knees drawn to his chest and fingers resting on his lips in anticipation. 

Mark jumped slightly when Sidney was attacked by Ghostface, and a piece of pepperoni flew off the slice of pizza in his hand and landed on the coffee table. Renjun saw this and giggled slightly. A minute later, he leaned over to rest his head on Mark’s arm. 

He felt his face grow impossibly hot. Sidney and Billy were making out on screen, and Mark wondered if the sudden tension he felt was just his imagination. He wondered what it would be like to kiss Renjun. Probably nice. He hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time. 

Renjun was so warm, pressed to his side like that. He could feel his every inhale and exhale, and it felt more intimate than what he’d ever admit to. He couldn’t help it when he lifted his hand and smoothed down a few errant hairs sticking up from Renjun’s head. He looked up at him, propping his chin on his shoulder. He looked slightly sleepy, with red-rimmed eyes and a dopey smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Mark breathed.

“For what?” Renjun furrowed his eyebrows.

“I dunno,” Mark said dumbly. 

“Trust me, you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Mark inhaled sharply. “That’s… not true. I have something I need to tell you.”

“I hope you’re not about to tell me you’re planning to murder me,” Renjun said, laughing nervously. 

“No, god, of course not.” Mark scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t like Halloween. Or scary movies. Or haunted houses. In fact, I hate them.” 

Renjun looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “So why did you go to Frightfest so many times? For god’s sake, you went through the haunted house three times!”

“I wanted to see you.” It was a half-truth, but Mark would tell him the full story another day. “I hate Halloween and I hate being scared but… I just thought you were cute.” 

“You thought I was cute?” Renjun turned his body towards him, a devilish smile on his face. “You tormented yourself by coming through that haunted house _three time_ s just because I was cute?”

“Well, maybe cute isn’t the best adjective,” he murmured. Their faces were inches from one another, and the screams from the TV had faded into the background. 

“So what is?”

“Ethereal, bewitching, hot--” 

Mark didn’t get to finish his stream-of-consciousness synonyms, because Renjun’s lips were resting on his teeth. A little awkward, but he was too thrilled to care. Renjun leant back almost immediately, cautiously looking towards Mark to see if it was okay. He immediately leaned back in, but he missed and kissed the corner of Renjun’s lips, bumping their noses in process. 

He giggled, and Mark couldn’t even feel ashamed if he had made Renjun laugh like that. 

This time, he moved slowly, carefully, and placed his lips right on top of Renjun’s. He kissed back almost immediately, taking Mark slightly by surprise. The TV still played in the background, the grotesque, quelching stabbing noises doing little to set the mood. 

Renjun untucked his feet from underneath him, almost draping himself across Mark to get a better angle. He was a good kisser. His arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer. Mark gasped when Renjun licked his lips, pulling away with a loud _smack_. 

He was glad he hadn’t decided to wear the Spiderman costume.

“You taste like pizza,” Renjun teased. He disentangled himself and settled back into his original position on the couch, turning his attention back to the TV. Mark still sat dazed, his lips still tingling and wet with Renjun’s spit. 

Only a few minutes later, the end credits of _Scream_ rolled, and Mark couldn’t for the life of him remember a single thing that had happened during the movie. His brain was just a constant loop of Renjun’s lips on his, the feeling of his touch, warm against his skin.

“You up for another movie?” Renjun asked eagerly. “It doesn’t have to be scary.” Renjun rested his chin on his shoulder again. The remnants of his ghost makeup still clung to his skin, but it had rubbed off on his cheek where it’d been squished against Mark’s arm. 

His past words echoed in the back of his mind. 

_I am your worst nightmare. The monster under the bed. I lurk in the corner of your eye. I know you, I watch you. Now, go little lamb. Or I might be tempted to eat you up myself._

He shivered. Renjun looked at him with kind, sparkling eyes, and Mark really wondered if he was being consumed. If he was being trapped in Renjun’s web, a sweet morsel for him to gobble up should he grow hungry. There was something strangely mysterious about Renjun, something devious about the glint in his eye. 

At that moment, Mark became certain of two things: that he would gladly submit to the pull of Renjun’s web, and that he didn’t hate Halloween nearly as much as he’d thought.

With those things in mind, he leaned forward and caught Renjun’s lips with his. Briefly, and so chaste that he had no time to respond. “I think I’m done with movies for the night.” 

As Renjun smiled that enchanting smile and fell into his arms, Mark could only hope that Renjun felt just as ensnared as he did. 

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween everyone!! whether you celebrate or not, i hope you're having a great end of your october :)) 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/crescentjunnie)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/crescentjunnie)


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